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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27923149">Wearing The Inside Out</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepointsdonotmatter/pseuds/thepointsdonotmatter'>thepointsdonotmatter</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Mandalorian (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, At the moment...., Hurt Din Djarin, Hurt No Comfort, Mindfuck, Whump</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 20:27:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,473</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27923149</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepointsdonotmatter/pseuds/thepointsdonotmatter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Moff Gideon and Din Djarin face off in battle, but Gideon knows his one weakness...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Baby Yoda (The Mandalorian TV) &amp; Din Djarin, Moff Gideon &amp; Din Djarin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>207</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Most people begged for their lives before they died. Most, but not all. The ones who didn’t had nothing left to lose. Gideon had seen it too many times to count. It was usually shell shock – men who had seen their families slaughtered, their homes destroyed.  </p>
<p>Very few remained defiant. Din Djarin might have been one of those few, if it weren’t for the asset. </p>
<p>It’s why Gideon knows this fight is a pointless undertaking, as fun as it is. It’s been too long since he’s had a proper duel, and the Mandalorian is a worthy opponent. His beskar gleams under the galley lights of the ship, the spear singing whenever it clashes against his darksaber. He has no idea that Gideon has already read him like a book.  </p>
<p>When Djarin sees the stormtrooper bringing out the asset – still in shackles – he predictably starts coming at Gideon harder, faster, no doubt unconsciously tapping into a reserve of energy he didn’t know he had. It’s easy to find an opening in between his erratic moves and knock him down. </p>
<p>Gideon nods at the stormtrooper, who places the asset down and shocks it with a remote. The asset stirs, crying out, and Djarin’s head snaps toward the sound.  </p>
<p>“Drop your weapon,” Gideon tells him. </p>
<p>The bounty hunter is slow to get up, chest heaving, hand clenching and unclenching around the spear. Blood trickles down to soak into the fastening of his cape. </p>
<p>"Increase the voltage,” Gideon says.  </p>
<p>“No!” Djarin says, but he’s too late. The asset’s scream is louder this time, and Djarin drops the spear, the <i>ping</i> echoing around them.  </p>
<p>Gideon tuts. “Aw, you woke him up.” </p>
<p>“Stop hurting him,” Djarin says. “I’ll do it—whatever you want. Just—no more.” </p>
<p>Gideon dips his head slightly. “The rest of your weapons, if you would be so kind.” </p>
<p>He watches Djarin remove and put down his blaster, knife, and flash charges. He’s heard of the Children of the Watch and their zealous ways. Now seems as good a time as any to learn more about them. </p>
<p>“Give me the remote and leave us,” he tells the stormtrooper. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>-- </p>
<p> </p>
<p>If it weren’t for the asset, the Mandalorian would have died before letting Gideon touch his armor.  Relationships, love: it was all astoundingly simple to exploit. </p>
<p>It’s quiet in the chamber, save for Djarin’s shaky breaths and the asset babbling frantically every now and then. Djarin shudders every time Gideon unclasps another piece, as if he’s being stripped naked – though Gideon supposes it must feel exactly that way to him.  </p>
<p>The vambraces, gauntlets, and greaves are strewn at their feet. Gideon tears off the pauldrons, casting them aside. There's a unique pleasure in imagining all the expressions that must be flitting across Djarin’s face, so he takes his time.  </p>
<p>The plated vest is next to go, and Djarin flinches, taking a step back. His heart is exposed now: Gideon can see his tunic pulsating slightly from his rapid heartbeat. The bounty hunter is impossibly taut beneath his fingers, muscles tense and quivering. </p>
<p>Gideon touches his helmet, the final piece, and <i>that</i> elicits resistance, as expected. It’s a knee-jerk reaction, muscle memory, the way Djarin grabs his arm to stop him. Then he shoots the asset a glance, anguish written in the line of his body. </p>
<p>Gideon follows his gaze, and smiles. “We’re just playing a little game,” he tells the asset, who’s trying to waddle towards them. </p>
<p>Djarin’s breath quickens, a litany of pleas finally spilling forth: “Not like this, not like this, not like this...” </p>
<p>It’s boring. Gideon scowls and pulls off the helmet, letting it fall with a resounding clunk. He throws Din Djarin to the floor. Kicks in his ribs. Watches him drag himself towards the asset, tears mixing with the blood. His face does not even matter, in the end. Gideon already sees him for what he is: just a man, begging for what he can’t have.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The thing was – Din thought he’d have more time. To process it, to do it right. Ever since Bo-Katan's farewell, the doubt had been seeping into his dreams. It existed in the fringes of his thoughts, a steady presence: the notion that his way in the world was not absolute. </p>
<p>Eventually he accepted it as the truth, but crossing from truth to reality felt like looking into a yawning chasm. He was afraid if he tugged one thread loose, the rest of him would come spooling apart, until nothing, no one, remained.  </p>
<p>So he put it off.  </p>
<p>The kid was going to be taken in by a Jedi, and they would be parting ways soon, anyway. </p>
<p>He put it off. Din caught a glimpse of his face one day while washing up, and it startled him: he couldn’t remember the last time he’d looked at himself. There was never any reason to. </p>
<p>All he needed to do was leave the privy. With a few footsteps, the kid would see him. </p>
<p>He put it off. </p>
<p>It’s as if he’s floating somewhere above now, watching Gideon strip his armor. He doesn’t recognize the man being revealed underneath. There’s a scream building and building in his lungs, but he can’t move, can’t breathe. </p>
<p>
  <i>Have you chosen your helm, young one? </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>No, not yet. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Choose carefully. It will come to define your life.</i>
</p>
<p>The coldness of the floor presses against his bare cheekbone, nudging him back into the present. Din tastes blood as Gideon starts beating him. The blows rain down. This violence – as inevitable as it is meaningless – is familiar, at least. It’s maybe the closest thing to comfort.</p>
<p>
  <i>If anyone ever removes your helm, do you know what that means? For your honor, your worth? </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>I know. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>I need to hear you say it.</i>
</p>
<p>Din blinks. Through his tears, he can see the kid reaching out for him. He grits his teeth. </p>
<p>
  <i>I need to hear you say it.</i>
</p>
<p>“No,” he whispers. “I won’t.”  </p>
<p>I am not a child anymore, he thinks. He drags himself forward, one arm braced against his ribs. I am not on trial. I need to be here, my place is here. </p>
<p>He reaches out, hand brushing against the kid’s. Before he can do anything else, Gideon kicks him onto his back. Din sees the remote in Gideon’s hand. The other man is smiling, finger poised over the button. </p>
<p>Rage clouds Din’s mind. He surges up, headbutts him. They tussle, and it’s rough and sloppy. Din’s coordination is all off, but he manages to land a few punches before Gideon gains the upper hand.  </p>
<p>“Vermin,” Gideon growls. There’s a blossoming cut on his brow. He digs a knee into Din’s chest, keeping him pinned down.  </p>
<p>Din spits in his face. He only has a moment to revel in the snarl that twists Gideon’s expression, before hands are wrapped tightly around his neck. Din struggles against him, fingers scrabbling against Gideon’s vice-like grip.  </p>
<p>The world begins to narrow to a pinprick, his vision going white at the edges. There’s glory to be found in dying in combat, protecting his own, but all he feels is a rushing wall of grief.  </p>
<p>The kid will be alone. Maybe he’ll even feel abandoned. The cycle will continue. </p>
<p>The pressure recedes. Din can breathe again, suddenly. He wheezes, coughing up blood and drool and bile. Distantly, he wonders how long it'll take for his injuries to heal this time, as the room comes into focus:  </p>
<p>Now Gideon’s the one grabbing his throat, choking. His limbs are impossibly contorted, quivering like twigs against the air. His eyes roll back into his head and then as quickly as it starts, he’s limp and unmoving on the floor. Din looks closer and sees the white bone of his neck showing through his skin.  </p>
<p>Grogu isn’t asleep. In fact, he still looks perfectly alert, glaring at Gideon with narrowed eyes as he lowers his hand. The shackles had cracked with the effort, and lie at Grogu’s feet.  </p>
<p>He’s getting stronger, Din realizes.  </p>
<p>There’s no time to keep thinking about it. He gathers the kid up and searches Gideon’s body for his access card. When he manages to get the door open, he finds himself face to face with Cara.  There’s a smudge of blood on her cheek, and a wild look in her eyes.  </p>
<p>“Please tell me we’ve got a way out of here,” Din says, wincing at how hoarse his voice is. </p>
<p>She nods, taking in the state of the room in a single glance. "It's all clear. Just a straight shot back to the ship."</p>
<p>Her gaze lingers on his face, but she doesn’t say anything, thankfully. </p>
<p>“Let’s get your armor back on,” she says, after a pause, instead. </p>
<p>He looks down at Grogu. Grogu smiles at him.  </p>
<p>“No,” he says. “We’ll bring it with us. I don’t need it right now.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm so sorry, Mando, it's just too fun to hurt you! Luckily, help is (probably) on the way in the next chapter.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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